Aragorn's Bachelor Party
by Rogue Callista
Summary: Newly updated! The day before Aragorn and Arwen's wedding, the Fellowship decides to throw a traditional hobbit bachelor party in spite of Frodo's frantic screams of protest. So far, it looks to be a long, wild night...
1. Default Chapter

Legolas glanced out the window of the tower of Minas Tirith where he sat conversing with his friends. "Tomorrow will be a day of great happiness," he murmured almost to himself. "From far away I see the procession of Elrond's house and my heart leaps with joy. This hour tomorrow, our friend Aragorn will have the radiant Arwen Undomiel beside him as his bride."  
  
"Oh, come off it, Legolas," scoffed the Dwarf Gimli as he gnawed on the last of his breakfast sausages. "You're getting all poetical on us again. Nobody in here wants to hear any more of that romantic crap." Legolas shot his friend a dirty look, but the Dwarf was completely oblivious.  
  
"So Aragorn's getting married tomorrow?" asked Pippin, shoving a sausage into his ample mouth. The sausages of Minas Tirith were famed all over Gondor and so far, Pippin was winning the sausage-eating contest he was having with Gimli.  
  
Legolas nodded dreamily. In a singsong voice, he crooned, "Ah, happy day! The Evenstar comes to grace this fair city of men and all will be light and beauty…"  
  
"SHUT UP!" cried all four of the hobbits and Gimli. Legolas looked extremely hurt. He had thought it a very nice and poetical speech. He pouted like a hurt child, but prudently kept his mouth shut about the virtues of Arwen Undomiel.  
  
"You know," commented Merry, "if Aragorn is getting married tomorrow, I'm thinking we need to have a…celebration." He smiled the smile that usually meant he was up to no good.  
  
Pippin glanced over at him, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "You thinkin' what I'm thinkin', Merry old boy?"  
  
Frodo rolled his eyes. "Oh, no you don't. You are NOT throwing a bachelor party for Aragorn. That is one Shire tradition I could do without. I'm putting my foot down, guys, and it's about time I got my way with this Fellowship."  
  
Legolas and Gimli shot each other a puzzled look. "What is this…bachelor party…you speak of?" inquired Legolas. "A quaint hobbit custom?"  
  
"Better than that," Sam piped up before Frodo had a chance to shut him up. "You already know how much we hobbits love to party, right? Well, it's a tradition in the Shire to throw a party for a man the night before he gets married, as kind of a last hurrah. And it's not just any party." Sam leered disturbingly at the Elf. It was a look not even Pippin and Merry saw on his face very often. "It's a completely wild and crazy, tear the roof off the house kind of party. Complete with plenty of ale, wine…and dancers."  
  
"Dancers?" Legolas asked innocently. Frodo tried to hush him, but it was useless.  
  
"You heard me, elf-boy." Sam's leer was becoming downright sick. "Dancers. Beautiful female dancers. And they're barely wearing any clothing."  
  
"Sometimes," interjected Merry cheerfully, "if you pay them enough, they won't wear anything at ALL."  
  
"Guys!" shrieked Frodo. "That's enough! God, you're disgusting." He shook his head. "That's a nice little tradition back home, and you guys can have one when you get married, but we are NOT having one for Aragorn. It's undignified."  
  
"Whyever not?" inquired Gimli, interest blossoming in his eyes. "It sounds like a great old custom to me. Aragorn's like our brother! We ought to do right by the guy, you know?"  
  
"Yeah," commented Legolas, "Gimli's right. I'm a little curious to find out about these customs of yours…and about these dancers." The elf grinned from ear to ear.  
  
Frodo moaned. "No, no, NO! I did NOT go all the way to Mordor and back to humiliate the King of Gondor with a sick bachelor party!" He slapped his forehead in frustration. "How do you always come up with these twisted little ideas?"  
  
Pippin smiled hugely. "I think Frodo is having a bad memory." He turned to the others and said in a stage whisper, "One time, he got really drunk at our cousin Noddo's bachelor party, and he tried to pay this girl to give him a 'private dance'…"  
  
Legolas lifted a blond brow quizzically. "She said no?"  
  
"SHUT UP!" screamed Frodo, leaping on Pippin and knocking the wind out of him. "I just can't believe how little respect you have for the Ring Bearer. I go all the way to the Cracks of Doom to save you and this is the thanks I get?"  
  
Merry snorted. "Come off the Ring Bearer stuff already. You know you're going to help us, so why don't you just say so?"  
  
Frodo fumed. "Fine, I'll help you. But only to make sure things don't get out of hand!" He stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind him with a vengeance. 


	2. Chapter 2

To make the arduous work of coordinating the party just a little bit easier, the Fellowship split up party planning duties. Merry and Pippin were in charge of the eats, Sam would hire musicians, and Legolas and Gimli were responsible for finding the dancers. Since Frodo was still downstairs in a huff, the other hobbits decided to let him and Sam be in charge of drinks. "Hey, what can I say? The guy knows his booze," Merry remarked.  
  
Shortly after the planning session, Legolas and Gimli set out on their errand. As they strolled through the paved streets of Minas Tirith, the dwarf began to feel a little uncertain. "Um, Legolas?"  
  
"Yes, my vertically challenged friend?" Legolas turned and looked down at the dwarf, but didn't stop walking.  
  
Gimli frowned. "Are you sure you know where to find these dancing girls? You don't need to feel proud about asking me for help, you know. It's OK if you don't hang around those kind of places much, I just don't want ugly strippers at Aragorn's party."  
  
Legolas threw his head back and laughed. "Ah, Gimli, how little you know about the secret lives of elves!" He ducked down a darkened alley, the dwarf at his heels. "I'm really hurt that you think I don't know where to get booty."  
  
Gimli cleared his throat. "Well, uh, you know how that barracks talk goes…"  
  
The Elf rolled his eyes dramatically. "For the last time, Gimli, I am NOT gay. And I have a perfectly normal sex drive for a male elf." He winked suggestively at his companion as he knocked on an ordinary looking door. "I have some friends in here I want you to meet…"  
  
An hour later, Gimli stumbled dazedly out of the alley with six very scantily clad girls in tow. Legolas had four girls on each arm and was very happy about the way things had turned out. "Hey, relax," he simpered, "there's plenty of elf to go around, sweethearts. I just want you to come down to the palace and meet my buddy Aragorn, and maybe we could play a few games, and you could dance for us!"  
  
"That sounds lovely, Leggy baby," breathed a chesty blonde into Legolas's right ear. "We sure do love to play games…"  
  
A brunette holding Gimli's hand turned around and smiled lustily at the elf. "Why didn't you let us meet your friend before, baby?" She pinned her eyes on the region of Gimli's belt line. "I just love his nice, big…ax."  
  
Gimli was in a complete daze. All he knew for certain at the moment was that dwarf women had NOTHING on these girls…  
  
Meanwhile, Sam and Frodo were sampling the vintage at a wine merchant's shop. "Hmmm," Sam mumbled, "I really like this Dol Amroth red." He was on his third glass and wasn't speaking all that clearly. "Frodo? I say fifty barrels of this."  
  
"All the barrels of that you want," Frodo called from the back of the shop as the rotund wine merchant grinned down at Sam. "I've got something else in mind. The REAL deal."  
  
Sam dashed to the back of the shop, where Frodo stood blissfully gazing up at a shelf. "No, Frodo! Do you have any idea how sick that stuff makes you? I'm not cleaning up your vomit this time around, no way."  
  
Frodo plucked a bottle from the shelf as if it were a golden fruit. "Elven Moonshine, how I adore this golden elixir," he crooned as he cradled the bottle in his arms. He turned to Sam. "You shouldn't worry about me, pal. I have the best head for liquor in the Shire. I know when to stop, okay?"  
  
Sam rolled his eyes and groaned. "Frodo, *elves* get wasted on that stuff. Do you know what that means?"  
  
Frodo didn't reply. He was too busy gazing blissfully at the hundreds of bottles of Elven Moonshine sitting on the shelves, just begging to be consumed.  
  
"I've never seen a drunken Elf, and that means this poison's too strong for you!" Sam insisted, tugging at his friend's arm. "Come on, just the fifty barrels of wine, okay?"  
  
Frodo shook his head. "We're both in charge of the drinks, and if you can get fifty barrels of wine, I can get a hundred bottles of Elven Moonshine. We're not leaving the store until I do, either!"  
  
Sam sighed and called out to the wine merchant. "All right, my good man, fifty barrels of Dol Amroth red, and one hundred bottles of this here Elven Moonshine…" The wine merchant smiled hugely as Frodo cradled his precious bottle. 


	3. Chapter 3

Meanwhile, Merry and Pippin were eating their way through the marketplace of Minas Tirith. Merchants were all too happy to let the great halfling heroes sample their wares, and when the food sellers learned that the two hobbits were buying for the King of Gondor, their hospitality knew no bounds. Pippin had tried eleven varieties of sausages and still was at a loss as to which ones to serve at Aragorn's party. For his part, Merry was still browsing in the general area of the sweetmeat-sellers. At the rate they were going, Merry and Pippin would be big from a lot more than Ent-draughts by the time they got back to the Shire.

"Eh, Merry!" called Pippin, sausage running from the corners of his ample mouth. "Why dontcha try these little ones over here. They're quite nice with grape jelly."

Merry did not answer right away, since he was in the middle of eating six large sweetmeats at once and licking sugar from his fingers. It took three more hours for them to actually order any food. They did not make it back to the palace until Sam, having rounded up a slightly tipsy band of bagpipe players, found them in the marketplace and literally dragged them away from the food stalls.

By the time Merry and Pippin made it back to the palace, the party was about to begin. Gimli had found a very nice unused room and had also managed to procure some pipeweed. He and Legolas moved some tables around, rolled in the wine barrels, and helped the tipsy bagpipers to their places. Gimli was rather pleased with himself. He had done a good day's work, and no especial thanks to Legolas. Of course, it wasn't as if the Elf had had a free arm anyway—his "friends" were still hanging all over him and simpering over his "sexy looking bow." Gimli was just a little bit worried. He had no idea how to get the dancers off Legolas and onto the tables. The dwarf shrugged, thinking Elven Moonshine might do the trick. Little did he know then of the dangerous effects of Elven Moonshine!


	4. Chapter 4

A little later that night, Aragorn, descending the staircase from his tower room, heard an incredible noise coming from a little-used room on the west corridor. Curious, he went to investigate. The noise sounded like...bagpipes. And drunken hobbit voices. Aragorn narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Something was not right about this. He opened the door, and to his horror, found the room filled with partiers! The soldiers he had commanded from the recent battle were all there, as were many of the noblemen of Gondor—and they all seemed to be drunk! And there were wenches actually dancing on the tables—barely clad, no less! The King could hardly believe his eyes. Why in the name of Eru was _this_ going on in his palace?

"Surprise!" yelled Merry, from the corner where he was being "entertained" by a pair of lovely blondes. "Yesh...shurprishhh, Sharagornnn!" slurred Frodo, saluting the king with a bottle of Elven Moonshine and sloshing the precious liquor liberally on the floor.

Aragorn's jaw dropped. Never in his life had he seen such a spectacle! Except maybe for that one time when Elladan and Elrohir had persuaded him to come to one of their keggers...but he put the unpleasant memory hastily from his mind. It was time to be stern with these carousers. "What is the meaning of this?!?!" he thundered.

Legolas grinned unabashedly at his friend. "The hobbits decided to honor you on the night before your wedding with a quaint little tradition of theirs. They call it a 'bachelor party'."

Aragorn frowned. "Just tell me one thing, Legolas. Just one thing for the sake of our friendship."

The elf quirked a blond brow. "What's that?"

"WHY WAS I NOT INVITED TO MY OWN PARTY?!?!" 

Legolas turned to glare at Frodo. "Wasn't that YOUR job, short guy? You were supposed to bring him down here, you intoxicated excuse for a Ring-bearer!"

Frodo smiled blissfully. "Uh-huh." Just as he gurgled out his reply, his curly head hit the table, and he was out for the duration.

Aragorn rolled his eyes. "Forget it. I'll even forgive the fact that you tried to have a party in my honor without me and stay a little while. I suppose a little drop couldn't hurt. Come on, Gimli, pour me a shot of that Elven Moonshine..."


End file.
